


Sand

by Merkwerkee



Series: Being Bruno Hamilton [35]
Category: Masters of the Metaverse
Genre: Through a mirror darkly, s5 e6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: Bruno takes some time for himself after finding himself the man that, for a few crucial choices, he could have become in the latest Metaverse
Series: Being Bruno Hamilton [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643020





	Sand

“How did it go?”

Zenda’s innocent question was met with an almost unbearable silence. Even Wells seemed disinclined to answer, where usually the man would take the slightest opportunity to ramble - especially when he wasn’t the subject of the question. Zenda seemed surprised at their cumulative lack of response and opened his mouth as if to ask another question, but Bruno couldn’t stand the thought of a thorough debriefing. Not now.

“Mission objectives accomplished, no friendly casualties,” he stated brusquely, ignoring the little voice in his head that said _not for lack of trying_. He turned away from the group and headed for the door to the bunker, grabbing a canteen on his way. “I’m going to go scout the perimeter.”

Zenda looked perturbed. “That is not a wise idea, what if-” Bruno rounded on him with a glare and Zenda wisely shut his mouth. “I’m going. To scout. The perimeter.” The one-armed man still looked deeply unhappy but didn’t try to stop him again and Bruno walked out the door into the indeterminate and interminable sunlight.

It wasn’t as hot here, in this place, as some of the deserts he’d been to over the years, but it still wasn’t exactly what you’d call balmy. As Bruno tromped over the sand, always keeping the base within 50 yards of his left side he could feel the sweat begin trickling down his neck and he glared out over the odd ruins and ever opening and closing gates.

He could still feel the shadow of Kaldegga in his mind, like an oil slick. A man whose not inconsiderable talents had been focused almost entirely on a mission that made Bruno want to retch, whose mind had been filled with hate and a joy in the death and destruction his actions caused - if that was the kind of person Bruno was sent into, what did that say about Bruno?

And the way Kaldegga had looked at his granddaughter…Bruno kicked at the sand, scowling ferociously at the serene golden dunes around him. He’d done his best to suppress Kaldegga for the good of the mission, but the man had had the wherewithal to whisper to him anyway. It was the most acutely he’d ever been aware of the dividing line between him and an avatar; Kaldegga had pressed hard to take control, growing angrier and more spitefully malicious every time Bruno had ruthlessly shut him down.

Even slapping himself hadn’t made Kaldegga retreat, the man instead treating the pain as a goad to thinking even more explicitly uncomfortable thoughts - and not just of what he’d do to Andi. Thoughts of burning the death-seeker alive as Aquamarine screamed, of shutting down all the electronics inside Thomas’ avatar and watching as the man choked to death on fleshy bits that no longer functioned on their own - of having his way with Andi’s avatar and dragging her with him on the path to his inevitable victory. Of hanging the corpses somewhere highly visible to illustrate what would happen to those who opposed his vision.

All that and more had run through Kaldegga’s head as he homed in on the thoughts that made Bruno uncomfortable, the ones that made him want to take an ice pick to the brain he was in. And, what was worse, was the methodical way Kaldegga set up the fantasies; each one unfolded in the kind of exacting detail Bruno used to adapt to circumstances on the fly to achieve mission objectives. Each thought in Kaldegga’s mind was made with the same ruthless calculation that Bruno himself used when he was out on a mission.

It had distracted Bruno for a crucial second, and Kaldegga had clawed his way back into some semblance of control. The sexual rejoinders traded with both Dr. Clarkson’s and Andi’s avatars had covered up the far more vicious struggle inside his head as Kaldegga fought for complete control and Bruno had opposed him with equal determination. That stalemate had lasted them most of the way through the ensuing fight on the capital ship until Kaldegga had mentally flinched away from a lightning strike that Bruno knew with his many years of experience dodging projectiles wouldn’t hit them; he’d exploited Kaldegga’s flinch to shove him all the way back down to the depths of their shared existence where he belonged.

He hadn’t been able to make him stay down for long, however, and Kaldegga had again clawed his way to almost complete equilibrium between them. The man’s smug satisfaction at killing the 400 and more other people on the capital ship - of the message that would send to the galaxy - left a foul taste in Bruno’s mouth, and the memory of the smirk that had twisted Kaldegga’s face when Wells had overridden Bruno’s concerns about possible avatars on the ship made Bruno wipe his own mouth now in disgust, grimacing at the feel of several days worth of stubble.

Bruno felt foul, like he’d been wading through hip-deep sewage instead of merely climbing in and out of a pod. There wasn’t enough water for more than a shower every few weeks in the bunker - Zenda’d done what he could and there was a filtration/recycling unit to reclaim as much as humanly possible - but Bruno couldn’t wait until it was his turn again. And while it had been a long time since last he’d had to do it, he knew a few tricks on getting relatively clean in the desert.

Kneeling, he shucked his shirt and pulled out his canteen. Brushing away the topmost layer of sand, he took a handful of the deeper layer and wetted it a bit before beginning to scrub his head and chest down thoroughly. The feeling of Lothar Kaldegga slowly faded down the back of his throat, like bile. It had been - overwhelming. Suffocating. When he’d willingly surrendered control to Kaldegga, it had been like diving into crude oil. He’d watched Kaldegga attack Wells, unable to move a muscle or even speak out against it. Screaming inside his own head, helpless, was an experience that had him scrubbing sand through his hair more vigorously than he should’ve done, but the scrapes would heal quickly enough.

And then Wells - Wells’ wispy, pilot form, not the body he’d been inhabiting - had reached out and pulled Bruno to the fore of his avatar. He’d seen Wells do it to the others, but to have it done to him was…weird. For the briefest instant it was almost like Wells had joined him in the body of Kaldegga and the welter of thoughts and emotions not his own - distinctly unlike him, in a way that Kaldegga’s thoughts disturbingly weren’t - had only lasted the space of a hairsbreadth and then it was gone and Bruno had been mostly in control of himself.

As he finished his ablutions, Bruno felt a little calmer. Cleaning off with the gritty, abrasive sand had helped ground him, reminded him that he wasn’t Kaldegga and that Kaldegga had no place here - though he might have. Bruno was self-aware enough to realize that he might very well have become the angry, bitter shadow that had comprised the sum of his avatar. If it hadn’t been for his team and his officers - well. Bruno had seen the outcome in Kaldegga, and he would not let himself slide that far.

Brushing off as best he could, he started trudging back towards the bunker. He had to face Andi and the rest of them at some point; no reason to put it off any longer.


End file.
